Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
The beast doesn’t spare me glance nor growl as he takes to the air, the great buffered gusts as his wings draw down blowing my cloak around my numb body. Up, up, and away he spirits from the pit in the sand that was his premature grave, and as the dragon soars higher and higher, he crosses in front of that brilliant, troubling star. The celestial illumination on its scales is a light show worthy of a rainbow, and how I envy his freedom as the creature flies for the snowy cap of home.
Staring out from under my hood, my eyes water from sadness, for I know I will never travel so far—
The golden knight leans over me, and though I’m careful not to meet his gaze, I can tell his noble, dark face is drawn in lines of awe.
“’Tis you,” he says with reverence. “You … are the one I seek.”
Ten
A Bloodthirsty Crowd.
“Julion Wyse of Prosperitus, at your service.”
The golden knight removes his helmet and bows with a gallantry that surely makes women fall in love with him on the spot. Then he looks to the dark western horizon and extends a hand to me.
“Now, we must go, yes?”
He’s worried about the night and the Fulcrum. I’m worried about why he thinks he knows and needs me. Hard to decide which is the bigger danger, and that’s saying something.
I accept his aid in getting to my feet because I feel so wobbly, but we need to part ways, he and I. “No, thank you. I’ll get back on my own—”
He picks me up as if I weigh nothing and carries me over to his steed once again. The previously laconic stallion, who wasn’t even bothered by a dragon getting resurrected and flying off, suddenly begins to mince in place and snort.
Its shrewd eyes are focused somewhere past the sandblasted outer ring of the forest, on the shadows lurking in and among all the dense branches of the healthy trees.
Where I found the dead cow.
“I think I will accept a ride,” I mutter.
“Your honor is safe with me, I assure you.”
The knight gathers the reins, plants a boot in the stirrup, and somehow manages to get us both up onto the saddle in one smooth movement. As I’m settled behind him like a sack of grain, the horse rears up, hooving at the air.
“Hold on tight!”
The steed bolts before the knight finishes speaking, and I grab on to whatever I can. Ducking my head behind the smooth gold plate across his back, I look over my own shoulder. The Fulcrum looms like an evil entity in and of itself, rather than a containment for one, and I search for black bands in the last wink of daylight—
The horned face appears again, this time in gigantic proportion, the features pressing out of the swirling sand. The mouth is open and the eyes are hungry, and it’s rushing out toward me with a booming war cry—
I scream, and the knight twists around.
“Fates!” he hollers over thundering hooves.
“He’s coming for us!” I yell.
That’s a lie. Whatever it is comes for me, and me alone.
The steed responds with a surge of speed, except clearly the horse already senses what’s happening. And though there’s a proper trail some distance away, the knight veers us right into the scrub brush and dead wood. It feels like an eternity, but then we hit the tree line proper and are lashed by branches. By the tinging of metal, I know the knight is taking the brunt of the impacts, and I’m glad the armor is on him for his sake.
There is no slowing down.
Still going at breakneck speed, we link up with a narrow, winding animal path, and go deeper into the dark forest. The steed jogs left and right, jerks his head, shifts his weight. We do the same, the knight and I, while I hold on to the male body before me for dear life, and I keep glancing in our wake, expecting to be pursued by what is trapped in the Fulcrum.
And trying to get out.
Fear chokes me and I hunker in under my cloak, squeezing my eyes shut and recognizing that there’s nothing I can do to help in this madcap retreat except not fall off. I can go no faster than the horse and I have no skills to fight like the knight, so I’m at the mercy of whatever destiny will befall us in these trees.
Thank fates the armor is made of a sturdy gold, or surely I’d crush it like paper.
The escape seems to last years, and my whole body, especially my teeth, hum from being clapped by the horse’s surging efforts, nothing but trees, trees and more trees until I’m certain the knight is lost and we’re going in circles—
We break out of the arboreal congestion like something expelled.